The Delights of a Reunion
by Holding A Heart
Summary: She looked into his sincere eyes for a second longer before the beckoning of his lips – just inches from hers – was too strong. Takes place in episode 8.


The look of raw pain on Tate's contorted face was almost enough to make her run back into the house. As the light caught the glistening trails of tears down his soft cheeks, Violet wanted nothing more than to slam the car door and run into his eager, waiting arms. But she could see, out of the corner of her eye, her mother's panicked expression, dragging her into the car and away from her safety. With one last look of sorrow, her eyes pleading with him across the lawn to forgive her, she lowered herself into the car and shut the door tightly. She saw the shadows shift across the grass as he walked away from her, disappointed in her. The thought left an aching pain in Violet's chest.

Vivien's shriek pulled her out of the onset misery that engulfed her at being separated from Tate. She turned to see the messed up and bloodied faces of the people who tried to kill her and her mom a few weeks before. Through the blind panic to get out of the car, a sense of relief flooded her entire body as she ran towards the house – towards Tate. The sick feeling that had settled into the pit of her stomach the further away she had got from the house had disappeared completely, she realised, as the door slammed shut behind her.

"H-how are they here? What are they doing? Did you see their faces? Why would they come back?" Vivien was screaming frantically, pacing in front of the locked and bolted door.

"Mom… Mom!" Violet had to shout, grabbing onto Vivien's shoulders to look her directly in the eyes. "It's fine. Calm down. It's just some stupid prank. You're tired and stressed and you just need to go to bed," she finished, praying that she had calmed her distressed mother down enough just to get her to go back to sleep.

Vivien seemed to slump at her words, her body going limp as if she was suddenly really tired. Her body leaned more on Violet's as she dragged her up the stair and to her room. Violet took the time to place her in bed and pull the covers up over her, watching her eyes drift shut almost immediately. She flicked off the light and shut the door.

Violet tried to pace her steps as she made her way back to her room, her heartbeat speeding up slightly at the thought of Tate waiting for her, sitting cross-legged on her bed as he normally did, his boyish grin creating the cutest dimples in his cheeks. But then the look on his face as she almost left flashed across her vision, pulling her back to reality.

She held her breath as she pushed open the door to her room, not quite wanting to know but not being able to move fast enough all in the same moment.

Her eyes scanned the empty room again and again, checking to see if he was hiding anywhere. Her heart sank and her eyes watered when he was nowhere to be found. She crawled into the centre of the bed and wrapped her arms around herself, wanting the comfort of his strong arms, his soft jumpers and his soothing words.

* * *

><p>"Why would you do that?" Tate screamed loudly, banging his fist down on the island in front of where Moira sat, making the cutlery she was polishing jump into the air slightly. Moira sat perfectly still – expressionless – and continued polishing the knife in her hand.<p>

"To what are you referring, Tate?" she asked calmly, used to his erratic temper. Tate's chest was still heaving slightly from his scream as he stared at Moira with clenched teeth, nothing but hate in his eyes.

"Why would you convince Vivien to leave the house? She was gonna take Violet with her!" he yelled, his hands going to his hair and pulling slightly, in frustration. Moira sighed at his dramatics and took her time in placing the sparkling knife amongst the other clean utensils and picking up another before answering him.

"You know as well as I do, Tate, that Violet isn't able to leave the house. She would have come right back if Vivien had managed to start the car," she commented in a disinterested voice.

"Yes, but she doesn't know that yet! I don't want to tell her that," Tate whispered, his voice cracking as he thought of Violet's lifeless body laying down in the crawl space. He sat down there sometimes – when he wasn't with Violet's ghost – and cried over her body, telling himself over and over again that it was his fault his love was lying down here, dead and lifeless. All because of his 'I Love You'.

"Well maybe you should. She's going to find out someday. I was merely trying to save Vivien and those babies from the same fate. You would have kept your young Violet whatever happened. It's too late for her," Moira sighed, shaking her head slightly. The house had already claimed her as its own.

A sob burst from Tate's lips as she spoke. Tears streamed down his crumpled face. It was too late for her. He tried to save her; he'd _tried_!

"They didn't leave anyway," Moira continued, not paying the slightest care towards Tate's distress. "You can go to her now." Moira's immunity towards his sadness came from her failed attempt of saving Mrs Harmon. She wasn't going to have another chance now.

Tate ran a sleeve across his wet face and disappeared from the kitchen and into Violet's room. He found her, sitting on her bed, folded in on herself. Her feeble position added to his guilt, but he couldn't quite take her in his arms yet.

"You were going to leave without saying goodbye." His accusing, yet trembling, voice came from in front of her. She looked up as a shocked gasp escaped her parted lips. He was standing a few feet from the end of the bed, his hands tucked into his sleeves, his arms hanging awkwardly at his sides. "You were going to be gone and I would probably never see you again." More tears threatened to spill over, she could see them brimming in his eyes like her own.

"I'm sorry, Tate. My Mom… she just wanted to go!" she sobbed, hating the distance between their bodies, the hurt in his eyes. It was too much. The tears began to pour down her face, her mouth twisting into a heart wrenching frown.

Tate couldn't stand it any longer. He needed to comfort her, to hold her tightly in his arms and pretend that there was a chance that she could leave him, just for a little longer. He took a step forward and that was all the sign she need to kneel up and reach for him, pulling his forward by his t-shirt.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he held her tightly around her small waist, trailing his fingers up and down her back. She sobbed into his neck and breathed in the scent that was uniquely him.

"I thought you wouldn't be able to forgive me. The… the look on your face as I got into the car. Like… like you hated me, like you were disappointed in me," she got out through uncontrollable sobs. He brought his hand up to stroke her hair, the other one pulling her even closer to him, squeezing her tightly.

"I'm sorry for making you think that, Vi." He pulled back slightly to look her in the eyes. They were red and swollen, like his own, but still with a glimmer of happiness that she was being held by him. The thought that he put that sparkle their made his heart swell. "I could _never_ hate you." He said the words vehemently, his gaze boring into hers, making sure that she knew, that she was listening properly.

A small smile pulled at her lips, which he returned. She looked into his sincere eyes for a second longer before the beckoning of his lips – just inches from hers – was too strong.

A sigh of relief escaped her when his lips connected with her own. He held the back of her head, pushing her closer to him, as if they could never get close enough. The kiss was filled with everything. The fear that Violet was leaving. The fear that Violet could never leave. The love they had for each other. The sorrow they felt at almost being torn apart. The pent up lust and passion and aggression that dwelt within both of them.

Their breath came in short, needy gasps as they sunk deeper into the kiss, neither of them willing to come up for air – one of them aware he didn't need to, one of them not. Violet bit down slightly on his bottom lip, tugging slightly with her teeth, eliciting a deep moan from Tate. He ran his tongue across her lips, wanting access. She granted it willingly, his tongue exploring her mouth unabashedly. He loved the way she tasted like the sweetest of candy. A groan vibrated from the back of Violet's throat, making Tate's hips buck forward, pressing his hardness against her. She squirmed in anticipation, digging her fingers into his curly blonde hair and pulling slightly.

They broke apart, their burning lungs pulling in air in frenzy. Tate leaned his forehead against hers closing his eyes momentarily, trying to avoid the monster that was flaring up inside of him. No, not now. Not here with Violet. It was clawing at his insides, desperate to break free and unleash itself on the girl he loved.

"No, no, no," Tate chanted in a whisper he could barely hear himself saying. It had to stay down, but it was crawling up his throat, choking him.

"What?" Violet whispered, an ounce of hurt in her voice as she misinterpreted his words. She wasn't sure what he was saying, but she couldn't handle being rebuked again, like that night on the beach. It would be too much.

"I want you, Violet. I want you so bad," Tate murmured, his eyes still fiercely closed.

"So take me," was her whispered response. He felt her swollen lips ghost against his own and that was enough. Enough to push the monster down further than he ever had before and regain control over his own body. His eyes drifted open to look into hers, wide and questioning. He brushed a thumb – the one with his ring on – tenderly over her cheek, the wetness from her tears still there. "I need you."

Without releasing her hold on his jumper, she pulled him onto the bed, shuffling back to make room in front of her. They knelt before one another, locked in silence for a few seconds, drawing out the moment of bliss, frustrating themselves more than necessary, wanting that feeling of unashamed need to build up before the release.

Her hands lifted slowly to his shoulders, pushing the cardigan he wore off and dropping it to the sheets. Her fingers danced around the hem of his t-shirt, creeping beneath it and dragging, painfully slowly, upwards, revealing his smooth, muscular torso. Tate stayed unnecessarily still, watching her face intently, as her hands ran experimentally up his body, feeling the muscles tense and contract under her palms. He shivered as her fingers worked their way back down. He grabbed her hands as they settled on his belt. They had to be even.

She looked at him curiously, almost shyly, as he placed her hands by her sides. A delicate blush looked out of place on her usually hardened exterior, but he liked it. He liked that he put it there, cracked her. He pulled her cardigan off, faster than she removed his, and waited for a second, deliberating. She had two shirts on. He didn't want to take them off together.

"I want to take each layer off individually," he whispered in her ear. "Like unwrapping a present." She shuddered against him, and he felt it all the way down his body. He smiled coyly and began to move the first shirt. After discarding it on the floor, he looked at her once more. The last layer was thinner. It clung to her frail frame. "The cellophane wrapping at the very end," he muttered, more to himself than Violet. She raised her arms, allowing him to pull it up over her head.

The blush increased as she knelt, exposed before him, no bra to hide the final piece of the prize. He eyed her hungrily, wanted to get lost in her, to claim every bit of flesh as his own. Tate picked up her arms, his touch gentle and caring as he traced each and every one of her scars with his fingertips. He could feel the force as she tried to pull away – hide from him – but he kept a firm grip. Looking up at her from under his thick eyelashes the whole time, he leant down to kiss his way along the cuts. His eyes shifted down as he worked his way up her arm, along her collarbone. He dipped his tongue into the hollow of her neck. Violet whimpered in response, her head falling back.

Tate had one rough hand on her hip, the other on the small of her back, holding her fast against him; her soft, plush skin against his hard, muscular chest. His head moved down, his chapped lips brushing over the tops of her breasts. He took one of her nipples in his mouth and sucked gently, running his tongue over the hardened peak, nipping and tugging with his teeth. A loud moan of pleasure burst from Violet's lips before she could stop it, or quieten it, or something. She barely had time to worry if she'd locked the door or not before Tate moved to the other nipple and her mind clouded completely, all coherent thoughts gone.

Her spine gave out and she fell back onto the pillows, pulling Tate on top of her, still working on her breasts, kneading the other one as he sucked. Violet ran her nails down his smooth back, getting a throaty groan in response, sending ripples through her body, straight to her core. She could feel herself getting wetter by the second. And she could definitely feel Tate's arousal pressing against her leg as he worked his way back up to her mouth, pressing a long, lingering kiss to her lips.

His lips distracted her as his calloused fingers slipped under her pants, pulling them down her legs. A rush of cold air hit her core, making her gasp into his mouth. She could feel Tate's hand sliding up her leg, her inner thigh. He paused for a moment before pressing the heel of his hand against her mound. Grunts of pleasure escaped both of them. Tate was right; virgins get wet so _easily_.

Tate pulled back to look at her. Her mouth was parted and swollen and deliciously red. Her eyes were hooded in lust and want.

"So wet," he mumbled, rejoicing in her brilliant blush. He smiled his cheeky grin and Violet wasn't sure whether she wanted to hit him or kiss him. She certainly didn't want him to remove his hand. Without breaking their gaze, he grabbed the top of her cotton panties and, with a sharp pull, ripped them from her body, the monster resurfacing for a little while, but not enough to make him lose control.

Violet cried out, she didn't know if it was in pain or pleasure, as the red friction marks rose up on her pelvis and another surge of wetness rushed between her legs. Her hands fisted in the sheets by her head as she felt Tate's and hovering over her heated core.

"Look at me, Vi," Tate commanded. She rolled her head round, opening her eyes slowly and looking into his almost black ones, knowing she wouldn't get what she needed until she did what he said.

The moment their eyes met, Tate dragged one finger up her folds, coating his finger in her juices, spreading it around her. Violet gripped onto his bare shoulders, biting her lip hard. He teased her entrance for a second, enjoying the frustrated cries he brought out of her. Violet needed it so bad, but she loved it too – the feeling of anticipation only brought on by the wait.

"Tate, please," she begged finally, his teasing becoming too much for her to handle. He slipped one finger gently inside of her, groaning himself as he felt his erection strain against its confines. She screamed, louder than before, as he began pumping in and out of her, adding another finger as his pace increased. His thumb moved to press against her bundle of nerves, rubbing it in rhythm to his fingers.

She could feel her climax getting close. Just as she was about to tip over the edge, his hand was gone. She whimpered at the sense of loss, the frustration of being denied her ultimate pleasure.

"_Tate_!" she whined, digging her fingers into his flesh, her desperate eyes bore into his playful ones. It was almost enough for him to give her what she craved, but he forced himself not to give into her, as tempting as he found her body.

"Not just yet," he consoled her. He kissed away her pout and brought her fingers to his belt buckle. She undid it quickly, the button undone and the zipper down in the same second. He laughed at her eagerness. She used her heels to drag the offending item down his legs, him kicking them off as they reached his ankles. She stared at his arousal through his boxers, open curiosity on her face. She removed his underwear in the same way as his pants, finally freeing him.

She stared at his manhood while he watched her face for reactions. She slowly reached out a hand and ran it up his length. He thrust forward into her palm, a snarl passing through gritted teeth. She looked up at him innocently, liking the reaction she was getting. She did it again, wrapping her small hand around him entirely. Gargled moans forced their way out of Tate's throat as she worked her hand up and down. She ran her nail down the vein on the underside of his dick. He could feel a familiar tightening in his stomach. He didn't want to be the first one to come. He needed to regain control.

"Violet… Vi, stop. Stop," he managed to choke out quickly, not sure if he could hold out much longer with the way her hand felt so soft on him. She looked up at him, worried.

"Why? Did I do something wrong?" she asked, a shake in her voice. He smiled down at her, shaking his head slightly at her silliness.

"No, that was… perfect. I just don't want to come ahead of the main event," he grinned. She blushed and he stifled a laugh, amazed that she was still blushing at this point.

He tilted his hips forwards, his tip resting at her entrance. She bucked slightly, slipping him in a little more. He knew this was supposed to hurt her, so he used the hand he wasn't using to prop himself up to keep her hips against the mattress. He looked into her eyes as he moved forwards inch by inch, filling her. He felt when he hit her barrier. He leaned down to kiss her passionately, breaking through and filling her to the hilt.

The monster reared its head – he knew there would be blood. Tate remained as still as possible, only his lips moving fervently against Violets. He buried his head in her hair, breathing in the scent of lilacs that was only her as he tried to suppress the monster. His efforts were slightly in vain as he started thrusting in and out, almost all the way and then slamming back in. Violet's jaw fell open but no sound came out.

His body moved of its own accord. Faster. Harder. Feral sounds were tearing their way out of his chest. Tate reached his hand down between their slick bodies to rub Violet once more. A passionate scream finally pulled its way out of her throat as her walls started contracting around him as she came hard.

He kept thrusting into her intensely as she rode out her high, his own coming a few pumps later. He pulsed into her, filling her with his hot, sticky seed. He collapsed on top of her, his arms giving way, the monster satisfied for the moment. He was aware he was crushing her, but he didn't have the strength to move. She liked the feeling of his weight on her and she pulled her fingers thought his damp curls.

Eventually he rolled to the side, pulling her close to him as they slipped into a bliss induced sleep.

"I love you, Vi," he murmured drowsily into her hair.

"Love you, too," was her whispered response, her hot breath fanning over his chest.

* * *

><p>"Did it hurt?" he asked later, after they had woken up from a peaceful sleep locked in each others arms. He trailed his fingers up and down her arm as she twisted her hand in his. "The first time usually does."<p>

"No," she responded quickly. "It was intense," she said, almost in way of compensation.

"For me, too," he said, smiling up at her.

He forgot that the monster was controlling him at certain moments during his first time with Violet. It was just him and Violet, forever.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for reading! :D <strong>

**Holding A Heart  
>xx<strong>


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